


There Will Be Time

by Torchiclove



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/F, Pre-Relationship, Relationship Discussions, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 13:49:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14717259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torchiclove/pseuds/Torchiclove
Summary: Beau and Yasha have a conversation about what they are, and what that means, and where they're going.





	There Will Be Time

Yasha’s hard to get a read on.

Beau cranks up the flirting as soon as she meets her, she knows this. It’s deliberate. It started off fun, but now it’s a habit, almost a guilty pleasure. And the thing is, it was _working_. And then it wasn’t. And then she left, and it was, and it wasn’t again, and it continued on an endless cycle.

Sometimes Yasha would smile and blush, or take a crack back at one of her lame one-liners, but sometimes they’d awkwardly fall flat, her face stoic and indifferent. Beau could never tell which Yasha she was gonna get, and it shouldn’t bother her, but it _does_.

Maybe it was a predictability thing. Beau likes to know what she’s up against, to know where she stands, and she has no idea where she stands with Yasha. The rest of the Nein, she’s pretty solid on, but Yasha’s so _mysterious_ , and she’s not even there half the time. 

Beau has a lot of feelings about Yasha, and the thing she hates the most is the way they keep changing.

Because it started off straightforward. Beau sees a hot woman and she flirts, tries to see if they’re into her. She’s always down for a good time, and with Yasha there is no exception. Yasha gave some mixed signals; that was alright, it gave Beau something to work with at least.

But when Yasha was gone, that’s when things really got messy. Because the first time, it didn’t matter. It was a little disappointing to lose to pretty face and the extra muscle. And then the second, it stung a little more, because hell, Beau kinda liked her. And by the third time Yasha leaves, she’s honest-to-gods sad about it. Not inconsolable, not despairing, just sad. She misses her. And she doesn’t care for that shit at all.

But then Yasha’s back again, and everything’s a whirlwind for a while. There’s not really time to feel among the fighting and the jobs and dealing with the god-awful tragic pasts of her other friends. Beau’s glad for it; the less she has to think, the happier she is.

And then they set out for the road, and there’s time to think, and it’s _miserable_.

Beau hates being awkward, it’s not her style, and now she’s anything but when she tries to talk to Yasha. She fumbles, loses her witty edge, drops any suave demeanor. 

Hell, Yasha appreciates the fucking _grass_. That’s adorable. That’s far more adorable than it has any right to be. Beau has been feeling like she’s living on the edge of a precipice for a while now, and in that moment, looking at the genuine wonder in those multi-colored eyes, she can hear the air whistling past her ears.

It’s hard to sleep that night, and it’s not because of the frankly tragic shit Nott dropped on them. That might be a factor, but Beau gets the sinking feeling that this restlessness is Yasha-related. She does, at some point, get some sleep, but it’s fitful, and she keeps slipping back into half-consciousness.

Yasha’s on watch when the sky starts to lighten, everyone else still sleeping and Beau unable to. She rolls over fitfully, cracking an eye open to see Yasha silhouetted faintly against the horizon, pale skin contrasting the darkness. 

She takes a deep breath and heaves a sigh, shifting into a sitting position. She’s really about to do this.

Beau gets up and walks over to Yasha, who acknowledges her with a nod but says nothing. That’s fairly typical; Yasha isn’t one for words. Beau stays quiet, too, sitting cross-legged on the ground about a foot away. She finds herself taking notice of how soft the grass is, damp with morning frost. It’s still unpleasantly cold, especially in the robes which aren't nearly as insulated as she made out. 

“Morning,” Beau says dryly, voice still thick with sleep.

“You’re up early,” Yasha replies, her eyes still on the sky, where the stars have all but faded and the sun is starting to poke above the horizon. The rain stopped some time ago, but Yasha’s hair is still wet, clinging to the sides of her face.

“Yeah, you know what they say, uh, early bird and all.”

Yasha looks slightly confused, but drops it. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Beau lies. 

There’s a lull in the conversation that stretches from seconds to minutes, awkward silence as they both look away from each other and out onto the rising sun. Beau is getting antsy. She feels like everyone’s going to wake up soon, feels the need to say something before then.

She scoots closer to Yasha, close enough that their shoulders are almost touching, and points out into the orange and pink sky. “Real pretty, isn’t it?”

Yasha looks down at her and smiles, just faintly. “Yeah.”

Beau feels butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Her brain is working overtime, eyes desperately scanning Yasha’s face for some hint of something more, for the intent behind her soft smile and soft voice. Beau is someone who is rarely consigned to inaction. This is no exception.

It’s a decision that she hardly makes, just her body’s natural course of action. Quick as snake striking, she leans up and plants a kiss on Yasha’s lips, light, just for a second.

The regret is intense and immediate, as Beau feels Yasha tense, and she breaks away to her lips turned into a slight frown, with a pained look in her eyes. Beau looks away, embarrassed, wishing she could tear out her own chest (or better, someone else’s).

Yasha brings up one big, calloused hand and puts it gingerly on Beau’s cheek, touch feather-light and hesitant, gently pushing her face to look back at her. Beau feels a flutter of hope.

“I’m sorry, Beau, I can’t,” Yasha says, and it’s dashed, the _one_ time Beau catches feelings for one of the innumerable beautiful women she flirts with–

“That was stupid, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...I’m sorry,” Beau mumbles, trying to avoid eye contact. She stares at the grass, cheek still pressed against Yasha’s palm.

“It’s not your fault, it’s...I–” Yasha falters for a few seconds and looks away, sparing a glance over at the sleeping bodies of their friends, undisturbed. “I can’t do this right now. I would like to, I _really_ would, but…”

The eyes that tell her this are the same eyes that said they’d been dragged through hell, the same eyes that spoke vaguely of Xhorhas. Beau softens. “That’s okay,” she says, and she feels anything but. “Thanks for telling me.”

Beau scoots away, not too far, just enough that the distance is comfortable. They fall into a deep, awkward silence, watching the sun rise. There’s a lot of things Beau wants to say, but she manages none of them. 

It’s Yasha that finally speaks up.

“It doesn’t have to be like this forever, though,” she says quietly, eyes still trained on the ever-lightening sky.

Beau cocks her head curiously. “Hm?”

“Perhaps not now, but there could be a time...a time when this could work.” Yasha turns to look at her, with an expression that’s painfully genuine. 

Beau grins. It’s not a promise, but it’s something. And she likes it, whatever it is, it feels nice. “Yeah, you know, I’ll always, uh, I’ll be around. When you’re ready. If you want.”

She doesn’t have more time to ruin it, because that’s when she can hear Jester loudly waking everyone up. The moment breaks, the world snaps back to normal, and she’s just sitting on the wet ground next to Yasha. 

“You two can stop flirting now, we’re leaving!” Jester calls, half-dragging a sleepy Molly out from under the cart. 

Beau laughs, probably louder than she should, but something about it feels _hilarious_. She sombers, a little bit, and says sheepishly, “Do I actually have to stop flirting with you?”

Yasha grins and tilts her head back, mulling it over for a second. “No, it’s cute.”

Beau springs up and turns away, trying to hide the blush coloring her cheeks. It looks like Molly’s out of from under the cart now, with Nott clinging to his coattails and groggily reaching for her crossbow. Yasha’s quick to follow.

They set out when the sky is still in shades of pinks and orange, trying to get the most out of the daylight. Beau keeps glancing up at Yasha, and there’s a certain sadness there, a sting in her chest that aches like an open wound. But there’s hope there, too, soft and fluttering. 

And maybe it isn’t what she wanted, but she thinks Yasha looks a little happier, and that’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Finally writing one-shots again? Wack.
> 
> Had a lot of feelings about Ashley saying that romance wasn't on Yasha's radar.


End file.
